


Dancing with the Devil

by EmmyJS13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: My First AO3 Post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyJS13/pseuds/EmmyJS13
Summary: I originally put some of this on fanfiction.net a couple of years ago but then decided to revisit it and then develop it a bit.Based on the prompt:You sold you soul to the Devil some years ago. Today he gives it back and says, “I need a favour”.





	1. Preface

Before I tell what is about to happen, you need to understand how it began. I didn’t want to get stuck with the Scooby Gang but it seems as though there’s no getting rid of them and their goddamn righteousness is somehow rubbing off on me.

So this story starts in a small town in England, at some point during the year of 2016. I had lived through a fairly normal childhood, my parents took me and my little sister to theme parks, zoos, theatres and whatnot and I performed fairly well in school. It was October, not long after I had turned 18 and I was in my last year of college (the English version not the American version… if you don’t know just google it because I don’t have enough time to tell you the difference) when I got a call from my panicked mother. That’s when I got the news. My little sister, Marley, had developed a brain tumour, it was inoperable she said. We went through weeks of chemo with her, but you know the statistics of that actually working on an eleven year old with a tumour the size of a small lemon rattling around in her skull. The doctors tried but they had to give my parents ‘the talk’ about her quality of life. I could’ve been strong for her, but honestly I’m about as strong as a lone piece of spaghetti so there was no way that was going to happen.

One of my friends had told horror stories in preparation for Halloween about people selling their souls to demons at crossroads, and as I left the hospital, distraught, I thought of her story and found myself stood at a crossroad (not metaphorically) and thought why not? 

So I sold my soul to a crossroads demon and my sister was miraculously cured the next morning.

Now here we are almost three years later and I have been on the run from the Devil and his minions for most of that. I say run, I mean a leisurely walk because, honey, I don’t run. Besides it’s not like they have enough brain cells between them to tie their shoelaces let alone actually find me. Or so I thought.


	2. Do it again...but this time with a little more soul

So now you know my tragic backstory, lets skip back to a few weeks ago when I was sitting in my favourite café.

This café isn’t really significant to the story so I am most definitely going to take my time describing every last detail from the squeaking door to the obnoxiously loud coffee machine just behind the counter. This café made the wonderful mistake of offering free wifi which meant that it was often filled with uni students trying to finish that assignment that they would’ve done last night had they not been drunk off their asses. The squeaky door was glass with a wooden frame and it made the most infuriating sound. On each side of the doors there were bay window seats with white, round tables (also irrelevant, but these were my favourite places to sit in the entire café) and odd chairs were dotted around identical tables in the rest of the room. On the display there were various types of cakes and biscuits which were to die for (not literally) and the coffee was probably the best that I had ever tasted. 

To the rest of the general public I was just another student, however instead of furiously typing on a laptop and restless foot-tapping caused by too much caffeine, I was always reading A Tale of Two Cities (I still haven’t finished yet) and was quiet and calm and one of the owner’s favourite customers.

Anyway, so I was sitting in my favourite spot of the café, reading that book and drinking coffee, when I get distracted by the glass doors being violently slammed open. Bearing in mind that my seat (if you were paying attention before) was the nearest to the doors, I was slightly startled.

The person who had slammed said doors was male with blondish hair, and was wearing washed out jeans, a beige t-shirt and a dark green shirt open over the top. And between you and me, he had a beer-belly.

When he turned around, I looked him up and down. My stomach dropped as I realised that it was him: the Devil.

Ok, so maybe I didn’t give you the whole backstory, but you can’t expect me to go into the gruesome details about how I betrayed the Devil and lived to tell the tale (which I’m not going to do so don’t get excited).

When we made eye contact, he scowled.

“You!” he shouted accusingly. “I have been looking for you for ages. I am exhausted. My father you are hard to find!”

At this moment I became aware that we were getting a lot of attention and strange stares from the other customers in the café, and pretty much anyone outside who just happened to be passing by and had decided to stop and watch. God, the Devil is such a drama queen.

“I searched everywhere! Not kidding! I tried every tracking spell, traded souls for information and tracked down every bloody ‘lead’” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “ and the only this solid to go on was a postcard I found that you had sent to me months ago just to rub it in my face!”

Oops.

I should probably explain how I found out that the Devil was on my tail from some witch who gave me a protection spell which would black any forms of tracking, and my genius, soulless mind thought it would be awesome to send him postcards of different places with the words “Catch me if you can” written on them. But I won’t. I admit that I was a bit much, but hey, I’m soulless; I’m supposed to be cocky and not care about the consequences, it’s part of the job description.

All I did in response to his little tantrum was raise my eyebrows barely. “And?” I asked in my most uninterested tone.

He stomped up to me, almost like you’d expect a toddler to when they’re not getting their way. “Don’t you ‘and?’ me!” he shouted, in a very serious, scolding voice that cracked me up I might add.

“I’m in so much shit right now!”

He got closer, eyes now glowing red.

“Are you now?” I answered in a heavily sarcastic tone.

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. He then -there must be some kind of technical term for it but I like to describe it as- whooshed us both to what seemed to be your typical dingy, American motel bedroom.

There was a made, single bed pushed up against the wall, with a tiny wooden bedside table to the left hand side of it; there was a desk opposite the bed which had pieces of paper scattered on it; to the left of the desk was what barely passed as a kitchen and to the right of it was the bathroom.

Upon our arrival, he immediately began rummaging through various bags, obviously looking for something. 

After several minutes of him pulling random objects out of bags, throwing them behind him and of me trying to not get hit in the face by things hurtling through the air, he finally stopped. He left his many odd possessions strewn all over the floor and stood up.

A blinding light suddenly filled the room, and, as he turned around, I could see that the emitter of said light was in his hand. He was holding it as if it was delicate. He then thrusted it in my direction.

“Take it.” Was all he said.

It only then occurred to me that this strange, bright thing was my soul. I was speechless (trust me, that has only happened a handful of times).

I hesitated before replying to him. “But what about Marls? What will happen to her if I take it back?”

“She’ll be fine.”

I glared at him suspiciously.

“Want me to pinky swear?” he asked.

If it wasn’t for the fact that my soul was in such a close proximity to me, which slightly affected the whole soulless thing, I would’ve been a lot more cautious. The Devil doesn’t go around giving back people’s souls without a steep price to pay.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes, now take it,” he said impatiently.

Good, because I would rather live the rest of my ten years and then eternity in Hell, than put Marley through her own hell again.

“Why?” Was all I could seem to manage to say.  
He placed my soul in my hands. “I need a favour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on ao3 so feel free to tell me how I’m doing


End file.
